Storebror
by AidanPadfoot
Summary: It was the end of it. You were home, she was home, and you were both safe. They'd take care of you... Right?


It was the end of it. It was all over. No more monster in the night, waking you up to torture you some more. No more assassin threatening your slow and painful death. No more sobbing each night and day, praying they wouldn't come back only to have your hopes crushed. You were home.

And all of it was replaced with even more disappointment than before. You were bedridden for at least two months, maybe longer, you didn't know. Time went by so slowly it felt like longer than it was. And you know what?

While you were bedridden in the hospital ward, you learned your brothers didn't know even the first thing about you. One week in. Abigail wasn't allowed to leave her room yet, thus you weren't allowed to see your best friend yet.

But the others visited you. They even let your second best friend Rockzo the rock and roll clown in to visit. Charles, good buddy Charles, practically the father of the band itself, came by once or twice. You enjoyed Pickles and Nathan's company. They were nice companions. For Nathan, he was quiet, calm, if you had any questions about anyone or Abigail in particular, he would stay calm and answer him, but you knew he probably felt conflicted.

Two weeks in. Pickles brought you your guitar, coloring book and a bag of your colored pencils the first week. You were ecstatic to hold your coloring book again and pencils, but you almost threw up at the guitar. The very object that put your life at risk.

Pickles seemed to understand. He took the guitar away when he saw the look on your face, then left you with your coloring book.

Three weeks. They let you stand up. They told you at four weeks, you'd be allowed to see Abigail, and boy were you excited. So you stood up. You assured the doctors you were okay, so they left you to your own devices for a few minutes. When they came back fifteen minutes later, you were blacked out on the floor.

You weren't allowed to stand unsupervised again.

Four weeks. They let you sit up and brought in Abigail, who looked healthy as ever, and you were _bouncing on your seat_ due to your excitement. "Abigail!" You yelled, and it was wonderful, to see the grin identical to yours on her face. She laughed and went over to your bedside, sitting beside you. "Hey, sweetie."

You couldn't help it then. You ended up knocking her back onto the bed in your hug, and cuddling up to her, which only made the brunette laugh harder and hug you back. "I missed yous!" You whined, and she smiled more softly then and pet your hair. She seemed healthier than last time you saw her. And still healthier than you.

That's good. You quite literally worried yourself sick over her the first few days, until her doctor himself came and told you how she was doing.

Five weeks. You were finally allowed to go back to your room in Mordhaus to stay. Under the condition you visited Dr. Twinkletits twice a week, along with your band mates keeping an eye on you. The only alone time you got was with Twinkletits and at night, when you went to bed. You didn't mind him. He was kind, he was quiet when you asked for silence and whenever you spoke of gaining a headache or your side aching, he gave you painkillers and had Pickles bring you your bear.

You didn't see the blond all this time.

That was considerably disappointing. You missed that dildo, whether or not you'd admit it aloud. Know what, never mind. If somebody asked, you would lie your ass off. There was _totally __**no **_way you would miss _him_, of all people.

So why are you standing in front of his bedroom door, hand up as if you were about to knock?

You didn't know. Did you just black out again? You just opened your eyes, and suddenly found yourself standing like this. You slowly lowered your arm, and looked around the dark halls.

It was so dark, so quiet. It was nighttime though. Everyone was probably _asleep_, much like _you_ should be doing. No. You had a bad dream, and you need to see him. Only he can fix this. But wait, what if he gets mad? You would be waking him up, probably at like, one AM too. Surely, the great Skwisgaar Skwigelf would _not_ appreciate being woken up so late.

You stared at the door longer, contemplating your choices. You recalled your dream. Magnus stabbed in the corner of the dark room. You crucified on a reversed cross, Abigail on another cross next to you. Your brothers stood before you two, Pickles holding the chain to the crosses as they stared at the Assassin.

Your eyes slid closed, but when they opened again, they all lay in puddles of their blood. William Murderface bled out in the corner by Magnus. Pickles missing the lower half of his body. Nathan with a sword through the spot between his eyes. But where did Skwisgaar go? You jerked your head as you felt someone touch your cheek. Oh. That's where he went. The assassin stood before you both, a scowl on his masked face, covered in the blood of your brothers.

"Whats de fuck does you want withs little Tokis?" Skwisgaar growled from somewhere behind you. "You all." The assassin growled, and you shut your eyes tightly. When you opened them, you were on the floor, Skwisgaar laying over you, coughing up blood on the floor by your head, the assassin chuckling darkly in the background. "S-Skwis..." You murmured, and his dimmed blue eyes opened to look into your own abnormal ice blue orbs. "Liten bror..."

You felt tears form and sting your eyes as you looked up at the pale blond. "S-storebror... Don'ts go..." You choked out. It hurt so much to move, to think. He just smiled and laid on you, resting his head on your shoulder. "You'lls be okay.." The Swede's voice trailed off, and you got a sense of panic. "Skwis...?" You asked softly after a minute or two.

No response. You said his name again, louder. Still no response. You continued on until you were screaming out his name, sobbing as your heart squeezed, a cold feeling spreading over your chest as you choked on your tears, eyes closed tightly.

You screamed again. Wow, your throat hurts now. You couldn't help it, you just start sobbing out Skwisgaar's name. Suddenly, a voice, and was that Skwisgaar?

"Toki, hej!" It hissed. You felt something-or someone-shake you. You just cried more, unable to form coherent words, blubbering as tears rolled down your cheeks, shaking horribly. When you felt someone slap you, you yelped, and finally opened your bloodshot eyes. You looked up, face red, to see Skwisgaar Skwigelf himself, hands on your shoulders, eyes narrowed at you.

"Tokis!" The man growled again, and you stared in fear at him. "... S-Skwis...gaar...?" You whispered, and for a second, you thought his expression softened, before hardening once again. "What de fucks was dat abouts?" The blond asked, and you just widened your eyes, staring at him longer, before the waterworks started again and you reached out, grabbing his shirt and pushing yourself closer with your feet, and the next second, you had your face stuffed in his chest, arms around his waist while you sobbed against his shirt.

He stiffened, and you became _deathly_ afraid he would push him away, so you pulled your head back enough to speak, choking out your words. "Jeg beklager, jeg beklager Skwis, jeg prøvde, må du ikke presse meg bort, jeg ikke ønsker å være alene!" You yelled, and he sighed. After a moment, you felt his arms wrap around your shoulders. He let you stay there for a few minutes, before nudging you away. "Comes on, little Tokis. Gets up." He said, and reluctantly, you let go and moved back. "Okays.." You murmured.

You were a little surprised though, because when you looked up, the Swede stood in front of you, holding a hand out to help you up. You couldn't resist your smile as you were happy to take his hand and stand up. But you were even more surprised, when instead of letting go when you got your footing, he pulled you into his room and closed the door. "Go lays down." He ordered, and you were hesitant to nod.

You walked over to the lead guitarist's bed and sat yourself down, looking up at him, watching curiously as he walked around the bed and laid down on one side. "Wells?" He asked after a moment of silence where you and him just stared at each other. "Comes on, Tokis. Lay downs." He said, patting next to him, and this time you obeyed and laid down beside him. You kept giving him a strange look though. Why was he being so nice?

Skwisgaar just sat up, pulled his fur blanket over you and tucked you in, before laying back down. "Goes to sleeps now." He grumbled, and you turned your head away. ".. Okays..." You said softly. He looked over at you then, staring before he patted your arm, getting you to look back at him.

"Why was you screamings?" He asked, and you felt the blood drain from your face, your eyes widening. Fuck, how in hell were you supposed to explain _that_? 'I had a dream you died a slow, painful death'? 'I had those dreams again'? 'I thought you died'?

Fuck.

".. I's... Hads a real bads dream..." You said quietly, looking away once more. And then, another moment of silence, until you felt something touch your hand. You jumped a little, but relaxed after a moment, realizing it was just Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar Skwigelf taking your hand and holding it... Was he high? Were _you_ high?

"Why ams you being so nice?" You blurted out. And the blond just chuckled at you. "You's min bror." He said simply. You beamed at that and looked at him again, before grinning widely. "Okays... Takk, bror." You chimed. And by the little smile on his face, he at least knew that much Norwegian.

You moved then, shifting closer and, hesitantly, tugging your hand back, wrapped your arm around his waist, cuddling up against the lead guitarist's side and stuffing your face in his shoulder. It was silent, and you began worrying again. Then he patted your back, kept one arm around you and relaxed. "Goes to sleeps, liten bror." He said, and you relaxed as well, smiling as your eyes slid closed. You didn't have any more bad dreams that night.

Everything would be okay, because you had your friends, yes, but then you have your brothers, who proved willing to murder someone just for making you upset. A loving family. The father, Nathan. The mother, Abigail. The brothers Pickles, Murderface and Skwisgaar. And last but not least, the grandpa, you supposed, Charles. A dysfunctional, wonderful family you loved waking up to every day and playing with.

And that was all you could ever ask for.


End file.
